


Whispers in the dark

by Nalyra



Series: Stormy blue, tinged with sunlight and tar [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Intimacy, M/M, Murder Husbands, POV First Person, POV Hannibal, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibals PoV on waking up after the fall.<br/>Read series notes for more info.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers in the dark

His scent is the first thing that permeates my mind. I inhale deeply, the soft motion of the boat following in my perception, his warmth a furnace coming closer and then retreating with every sway amongst the waves. I inhale deeply, blood and sweat and salt, and underneath his musky scent, craved beyond measure, the fevered sweetness of an infection forming, remnants of adrenaline and fury still coming off of him in waves. I raise my head a fraction and the motion travels through my body and I analyze the various pains and wounds clinically, calmly accepting. It’s so inconsequential now anyway, utterly unimportant, now, now that he is here with me. I turn my head slightly towards the door when I hear her step close quietly, no doubt wary.

She inclines her head, her voice extremely quiet, careful not to wake him. She was always so very perceptive and my lips twitch, breathing deeply again, letting myself fall into his scent for moment.

„It is fortunate that you managed to turn yourself. I believe there is nothing to fear regarding your bodily survival, Hannibal.“

She pauses for a moment and I trail my gaze over her quietly, waiting. She sighs silently and continues.

„I have booked passage on the ‚Nimue‘. We will rendezvous in approximately 6 hours.“

She nods and then steps back before stopping and turning, her gaze intense.

„I have booked the passage for you and him. He is ‚Nakama‘ after all.“

She leaves and I smile for a moment, accepting her wisdom, so far beyond her years. My eyes return to his face, bruised and battered and bloody and filled with old and new scars, and oh so beautiful, it’s imperfect balance only enhancing the ethereal transcendence. His breathing changes and his lashes flutter, as they so often do before he wakes and how he would have hated that I know, the knowledge not given freely and yet tiding me over many a night under Alanas care.

His eyes open and he focuses on me right away, his eyes dark in the low light, the blue that’s tinged with sunlight and tar and changes with his mood dimmed now, and how I long for it, to see it. He regards me for a moment, open and raw and then tries to speak, reminding me of the proverbial badge of honor he received in our becoming, prominent on his face. It enrages me that someone else put it there and I want to bite at it, make it mine. I force the feeling down, knowing that I will have to tread lightly, reminding myself that he has to come to me. 

I raise my left hand between us and let it fall forward, not so accidentally brushing against his chest and the touch jolts through me, the heartbeat I can feel for an instant echoing through my chest. I grab his chin lightly and force myself to look at the wound clinically, the skin around it already inflamed and puffy, intensifying the fury. He lets me handle him and my heartbeat kicks up a bit and I decide to push my luck, pulling his mouth open and I probe softly along his tongue, inspecting the wound and yet, the warm, wet heat shooting through me and I am utterly grateful that his sense of smell does not match mine and that there is some space between our lower bodies. It really is ridiculous, and I concentrate intensely on regaining my professional distance and yet I know that he can see right through me. I wonder how much he sees or dares to but the situation is not fit for this. I force myself to speak, amazed at myself and my gravelly voice, not used to my body betraying my mind so much. 

„He only nicked your tongue. It should heal within a few days. Please do not speak until then. However your shoulder will require more work. While it will heal completely, you will have to take on physiotherapy to get most of its range back.“

He exhales through his nose, trusting and accepting my verdict, his non verbal prompt for information about my own wounds spreading warmth through me and I smile almost without volition, settling more comfortably next to him.

„Chiyo dragged us out of the water just in time. I broke through the waves before you and I have sprained my ankle even though I got us turned at a perfect angle. We both have bruises from the impact. The waves separated us and you hit your head on a rock at the base of the cliff. I swam after you, kept you above water until Chiyo reached us. I must have passed out after that. Chiyo tells me that we will live.“

He snorts and I grin, before almost wincing in sympathy when I see him cringe with the pain the action elicits. His eyes squeeze shut and I need to comfort him, need him to open his eyes again, need to lead, need to stay atop the situation. I need. I almost breathe the words, knowing all that he is is trained on me and it makes me need even more.

„We should sleep some more. Chiyo tells me that we will reach our rendezvous point in a few hours and then we will need our energy.“

He looks at me and I know he can see the need, can see the beast clawing and howling in triumph and yet, yet he closes his eyes and falls asleep again, leaving me to watch over his dreams. 

Those few hours, there are no nightmares.


End file.
